The King's Champion
by Serri
Summary: A short story about the appointing of the King's Champion . . . come on, now, who else would it be?


Author's Note:  This is just a short story (and I do mean short) because I have no time for a long foray into Tolkien's world.  Alas, for Middle-earth is a world in which I would gladly immerse my mind and pen.  It is just a bit of fun that I dreamed up one day.  I hope you like it.  And yes, all of the Elvish is Quenya, not Sindarin.  I am fond of Sindarin but I have a Quenya dictionary whereas I have not a dictionary in Sindarin . . . sob.  Timeline:  very soon after the main events of Return of the King.

Title:  The King's Champion

            In the morning, Legolas rode into Minas Tirith, for he much desired to see Aragorn, and he knew that the Prince of Ithilien, Lord Faramir, and his Lady, the Lady Éowyn were both to be there.  A delegation from the City of Corsairs would have already arrived in Minas Tirith, but few in Gondor had any love, great or small, for the men of Corsairs.

            Now a visitor well-known to the guard, Legolas passed through the palace walls on Arod, the horse given to him by Éomer, now King of Rohan with nods of greeting from alert guards and blurry eyed stable boys.  He quickly dismounted and led his horse to the stable.  It was early in the morning, so Legolas knew that if all went as usual, Aragorn would be in the practice courts.  Legolas walked lightly past the stable, through the archery field, and into the practice courts.

            It was a fine dawning in Gondor, and the sun rose bright and true over the distant hills and the nearer walls of the city of Minas Tirith.  Legolas' sharp eyes caught Aragorn in the corner of a practice court, warming up with his broadsword.  He walked over to the king, whom he yet thought of as a Ranger, and not the King Elessar, Lord of Gondor.

            "Aragorn, _amaurëa mára," Legolas said, startling the mortal._

            "Legolas!  A good morning to you, I had not expected you here, though I am glad of it.  What brings you to the city that your Elves have made so fair?"

            "It was the will of the Lady of Ithilien that I come, and it is good to me to do as she wills."

            Aragorn laughed.  "Truly it is good for all to do the will of the Lady Éowyn.  She and Faramir are there with the ambassador of the Corsairs."  Here Aragorn bowed.  "The gift from Lord Thranduil was fit for a king—how did Éowyn receive it?" 

            "Graciously, though in her heart she treasured the warbow of Lórien more.  My Lord Thranduil's gift surprised me—a great jewel, in the likeness of the _Yavannamírë_, an evergreen with fruit of scarlet.  But the emeralds, the _mirili laiqua_, he loves those dearly."

            Aragorn's eyes rose at that and a hint of mischief entered his gray eyes.  "Your father does love green things: green stones, green leaves . . . ."*

            "You jest," Legolas said, amused at his friend's unusually playful spirit.

            "I do indeed."

            Only another Elf or one of the elven-blood such as Aragorn could have seen the mirthful affection in Legolas' eyes.  "You are in high spirits today, Elendil—" and listening to something Aragorn could not hear, he continued speaking, "—as is the Lady Éowyn, but her high spirits be neither playful nor merry.  The ambassador from the City of Corsairs is a coarse man, the Lady Éowyn cares naught for him."

            Aragorn sighed as he swept the air with his practice sword—it was not Anduril.  "The Lady of Ithilien judges rightly," he said.  "As the Lord Rinador has tried even my patience and the patience of the Lady Arwen greatly these two days."

            Glancing at the sword that was still idle in Aragorn's fist, Legolas asked, "Why do you linger here with me—will no one practice with you?  I do not find that easy to believe."  

            Even as Legolas spoke, he could not help but hear the conversation between Faramir, Éowyn, and Lord Rinador.  Legolas himself was the topic of conversation, and Rinador was speaking: "Who is the fair youth that speaks with King Elessar?"

            "He is no youth, my Lord Rinador," Faramir said, a touch of dryness entering his voice.  "That is a friend of both the king and my lands in Ithilien, and he has fought in the recent battles between the Dark Lord and our people."  
            Aragorn laughed a little at Legolas' words, drawing his attention back to his friend and king.  "It is not so," he said quickly.  "Though I feel as if I fight with children.  Perhaps Faramir—or Éowyn—would give me some true sport, but these lads have neither the strength or speed to be a challenge."  Then Aragorn's eyes lit upon his Elf-friend.  "But an Elf could be nothing less than a challenge."  With that Aragorn reached out and grasped the hilt of another practice broadsword, offering it to Legolas.  "Would you do me the honor of a bout?"

            Even as Legolas reluctantly took the hilt of the broadsword, he heard Lord Rinador speak.  "What?  Does King Elessar wish to spar with him?"  Rinador laughed.  "The lad looks like he weighs less than air—and could he even _lift_ the sword?"

            His anger awakened, quickened by the slumbering pride of the elven folk.  Eyes flashing in muted anger, Legolas accepted the hilt, "Perhaps I would demur or ask for some contest with knives, if I were not shamed into it by the Lord Rinador."

            Aragorn gazed at him curiously.  "I wonder at the look in your eyes—they shine as if by starfire."  He nodded at Rinador.  "What does he say?"

            "That I have not the strength to lift this sword.  Earlier he thought me a child."

            Aragorn clapped him briskly on the shoulder.  "He knows not the Elves, nor this Elf as I do.  So, shall we show him what the elven-born can do?"

            "Nasán, Aragorn," Legolas said, stepping back from him.  As he moved backwards he flipped the large sword up and around, catching the hilt after it made one quick rotation.

            Settling in a guard position, Aragorn paused before saluting, calling out in a voice that would carry to all in the practice courts.  "How long has it been that you gripped a sword, my friend?"

            In return, Legolas' voice was soft, but it carried as far as Aragorn's.  "A hundred years or a thousand, Elendil, I do not know.  Though at one time, long ago, I knew this weapon well."

            "And the memory of the elves is long indeed."  Here Aragorn saluted Legolas, "_An Elbereth, Elentári!_" (For Elbereth, Queen of the Stars!)

            "_An__ Uinen, Airëheri!" (For Uinen, Lady of the Seas!)  Their swords met with a ringing clash, and Legolas did remember the usage of his blade.  For a moment they strove against each other furiously, neither one gaining on the other.  In the first few moments of their bout, Legolas was clumsy with the broadsword—only his elven strength and speed saved him.  But as they progressed, Legolas remembered long ago battles under Thranduil and Glorfindel, where swords had seen far more use than knives.  The Lord Rinador was utterly forgotten._

            In a few minutes they broke apart, calling for a bit of a rest.  As Aragorn caught his breath, Legolas fixed on his memories, letting the flood of recalled skill run through his mind.  When he looked up, he saw that a crowd had gathered, of some of the palace guard, the folk of Ithilien, the Elves who tarried in Minas Tirith from both Rivendell and Mirkwood, and some of the common people of the city.

            As they set to begin again, Aragorn asked: "Why the Lady Uinen?"

            "You had taken my duty to my first patron," Legolas returned, treating his friend with a mock-reproachful glance.  "But the Lady Uinen was once highly favored among the Númenoreans and the Teleri."

            "What of Oromë?"  Aragorn said, the tiny flame of laughter in his eyes giving him away.  "Is he not jealous for the love of the Elf-kindred?" 

            "_Ëa, Aragorn, but the Lady of the Calm Seas has shown my people favor, and I give her favor in return."_

            "That is so," Aragorn replied.

            Legolas saluted Aragorn with his sword and sank into a guard position, one that he had used long ago in the practice courts of Mirkwood.  It was meant to show deference and respect to his opponents, but Legolas did not know if Aragorn knew this Sindarin tradition.

            Indeed, it seemed as if he did, for Aragorn's response was to shake his head minutely and respond in a stance that meant one thought the other an equal.  _Nay, Aragorn,_ Legolas thought_, for you are without peer among Men, and are great even as Elves would reckon things._

            They began again, and the bout went as before, but with Legolas gaining strength and confidence as it went on.  The crowd delighted in the match between the King of Gondor and the Prince of Mirkwood—for few had seen a contest between blades of such skill and speed.

            Aragorn caught Legolas by surprise, sweeping his feet out from under him.  But Legolas arched his back and turned swiftly in the air, flipping backwards and landing again on his feet.  The crowd gave a great cheer.

            "Alas!"  Aragorn cried out, laughing.  "For the Elves _are_ lighter than air."

            "Worry not, Elendil," Legolas rejoined in a rare moment of mischief.  "For you do well for one so young and of few years."  A roar of laughter came up from the crowd—for at this time, Aragorn was over eighty years of age although he appeared as a Man in his late thirties.

            "And you need not worry either, _mellonya_, for you do well for one so old and of so great years."  To this sally, the crowd laughed again, startled and heartened by the friendship between the mortal and the immortal.

            Surprised, Legolas laughed, "_Ve vista ná órënya mi mellonyai!_" (Light is my heart among dear friends!)  And the two continued, until Aragorn brought his sword crashing down on Legolas, pressing it against the Elf's sword.  Though Aragorn's strength was equal to the strength of five men, even that great strength could not master the strength of an Elf, especially one such as Legolas.  Legolas steadily began pushing back, his arms straining—but Aragorn's will was great, and it was more difficult to best him than he had thought.

            Suddenly, Legolas stepped back, and if Aragorn had been a lesser swordsman, he would have fallen forward.  Quickly, and to Aragorn's confusion, Legolas pointed his sword down and away, and went down on one knee, touching his hand to his heart then extending it to Aragorn.  "I yield."  And he lowered his head in submission.

            For a moment the crowd was silent, and they seemed to be as confused as Aragorn.  "_Mana sina?—an háryalyë i túrë."  (What is this?—for you have the victory.)_

            With a quiet voice, Legolas spoke, "_Laumë, Aragorn, haryuvanyë lá túrë or elyë_."  (Nay, Aragorn, I will have no victory over you.)

            Aragorn's eyes lightened, and he remembered the elven-ways.  At times, an Elf refused to best his lord in sport or even in jest, as a sign of the honor and deference he tendered toward his lord—it was a token of humility and of loyalty.  But, by custom of Elves and Men, Thranduil was the Elf's lord, not Aragorn.  Yet Aragorn knew that this loyalty came not from blood, but from Legolas' heart. 

            "_Quettartya laitantën—a ortat, Legolas," Aragorn said, his voice solemn.  (Your words bless me—rise, Legolas.)  When Legolas got to his feet, Aragorn clasped him on both shoulders, meeting elven blue eyes with his of keen grey.  "__Mellonya . . . you give me great honor, above what is due."_

            "Nay, Aragorn, _an ëa estel_ and worthy of great things."  (For you are hope.)  They had spoken the last words softly, so only elven ears could have heard them.  But then, a loud cheer arose spontaneously from the crowd, but started by Men or Elves, no one could tell.  "_Praise for the honor of King Elessar Telecontar—and the valiance of the King's Champion, Legolas of the Elves._"

            Somewhat startled, Aragorn looked swiftly to Legolas.  "It is as it was of olden times, in the good days of Númenor.  An Elf chosen by the people to be the Champion of the King."

            "As it was in Númenor, so shall it be among the children of Westernesse, in Gondor as long as the Elfstone reigns," Legolas replied quickly, reigning in his surprise enough to give Aragorn his word.

            Aragorn's eyes widened at that as he stared in the bright blue eyes of his friend, Legolas of Mirkwood.  They shone with a fierce and quiet fire—the fire of loyalty and the love of friendship.  Aragorn grasped Legolas' arm in a warriors' grip and spoke aloud, so that all the assembled people could hear him.  "As you have said, _mellonya_, so shall it be.  Legolas, prince of Mirkwood and greatest of my friends—_you_ shall be my Champion."  The roar of approval from the crowd drowned out any other words that either might have spoke.

Author's Note:  If you are just a casual reader of Lord of the Rings, perhaps you didn't get my little pun.  Well, "Legolas" means "Greenleaf" in Elvish (I assume it's Sindarin.) and hence the nature of Thranduil loving "green things".  (He-he).  Oh, and by the way, I made up all of that stuff about Númenorean champions and what-not.  At least, I never read anything about it in the _Akallabeth_.  So, I hope you liked it!


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